


Our Hands Full of Souls

by SomeoneEight



Series: If Monsters Could Love [3]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Incest insinuation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:48:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23707900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeoneEight/pseuds/SomeoneEight
Summary: "For a long time I tried to escape my destiny, but now I feel resigned. I have just committed myself to the destructive element. "Third story of the fanfic "If The Monsters Could Love"
Relationships: Hvitserk & Ivar (Vikings), Hvitserk/Ivar (Vikings)
Series: If Monsters Could Love [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1707346
Comments: 4
Kudos: 50





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is originally in portuguese. This version is in free translation.

_"Why do you keep returning, hmm? Why do you hunt me so? I don't understand."_

* * *

**_Part 01_ **

**_*****_**

When Hvitserk's eyes met Ivar's in the forest, the Russians' attack compressed into shapes, the snow and confusion dissipated instantly and all he saw was his brother. Only that.

Hvitserk hoped to feel hatred, thought he would create enough strength to bring him down by taking his life and avenging Thora's restless spirit. But in reality he was surprised by a feeling of great relief. Long days wandering through the forest, without drinks or ghosts chasing him, only with the howling of wolves that threatened in the distance, made Hvitserk urgently wish someone was around, made him pray for help. And it arrived. 

Hvitserk deeply hated himself for not standing up to Ivar, for letting the younger brother welcome him back so gently. But he no longer had the strength to fight anything, and the Boneless's look was different now, without any spoil of cruelty or bitterness, instead, there was something about it that looked very much like missing. 

At first, the warrior feared be killed for his betrayal, but Ivar hardly seemed to remember whose had helped Bjorn to invade Kattegat.

The former King's attitude was quite unexpected. He gave Hvitserk food and a place on his boat, covered him with a fur cloak and stayed by his side while he slept. Hvitserk did not intend to close his eyes, it was not reliable, but the tiredness easily came over him. He remembered falling asleep on the cripple's shoulder and waking up alive, which was an vaguely surprise. 

Ivar then took his older bother to the Russian court, helped him to recover, but at no time did he question how Hvitserk got to that state, neither did he scoff at that. Somehow, it was clear that Boneless was changed. Who knows, just as Hvitserk had to wander the forest for a long time alone, Ivar also traveled lonely days along the Silk Road. And this pilgrimage changed something within both. 

When the force returned to Hvitserk's body, when the eyes cleared and the scar closed for complete, a very dark hatred emerged from the depths of his soul. Hatred for Bjorn and Ubbe. His older brothers who put him on a pyre and then spit him out of Kattegat, his city. The place where he was born and raised as a Viking Prince. 

Hvitserk hoped that at least Ubbe would defend him on difficult days, but Aslaug's firstborn had just kept quiet while Bjorn slapped his brother in front of the whole kingdom. He had not risen to intervene when Hvitserk was dragged to the fire or when he was thrown outside the gates of Kattegat. Only obeyed Bjorn in every minute. 

Perhaps they never really forgave him for allying with Ivar and killing Torvi's son in the battle. The crooked and judgmental looks that were occasionally thrown at him were notorious. One of that was from Ubbe.

Ubbe did not love him anymore, it was simply impossible. Although he said yes, like a false bridge, his words sounded very fanciful, as if made to appease Hvitserk's pain. But the truth is that the brother's eyes showed only pity and disappointment, nothing beyond. 

Now older, Ubbe had become so much like Ragnar, that it was impossible not to think that own Lothbrok was judging him. The warrior could not bear to look at the brother nothing. 

_"You have just b_ _etrayed me for the second time in your Life. Look at you, look at you! Stand up. I don't want to see you anymore._ "

_"You murdered the most famous Shieldmaiden in the world! You! You sad, pathetic, raddled little man."_

_"I don't want you to be happy. No. I don't want you to enter Odin's Hall. I want you to suffer a living death, expelled from Kattegat and the haunts of men, destined to die in a ditch in some forest somewhere, utterly forgotten, wretched, insignificant, unmemorable! Like a flea on a sheep's back"._

A great resentment then arose in Ragnarsson's heart, and he realized that he should not care about Lagertha's death, which he was never close to. He shouldn't be sorry, but be proud of it. The gods themselves linked hs fate to that Shieldmaiden. The gods avenged Aslaug and used him as an instrument of justice. There is no way to fight Odin's will, thought to himself. If it weren't for Lagertha, everyone would still be together as they should, laughing around the table, conquering cities and making the father's spirit proud, but she broke the dynasty the day she killed his mother.

He had cried in the Shieldmaiden's body, yes, he was crying as she died in his arms, so cold and trembling, leaking blood from the vest and gradually loosing life. However, that tears were for himself, because he knew that after the crime, the contempt of his brothers and all Kattegat would fall on him.

On the long nights when Hvitserk hid behind some rock in the forest to rest, he felt his mother's hands running through his hair and whispering that everything would be fine.

_My beautiful boy_ , she murmured having her voice mixed with the wind _My poor Hvitserk_. 

Then his mind was consumed by memories that kept him warm at night. He remembered how Aslaug told him stories about Loki, the way she put her long hands around little shoulders when received visitors or saw Ragnar leave for yet another foray. The way she wrapped him in a warm robe and soaked him with tears when he and Ubbe nearly drowned. And he remembered the way she hugged him warmly before seeing him leave for the Mediterranean with Bjorn. Hvitserk never imagined that would think a lot about her, he didn't think much about his parents, being the most indifferent Ragnarsson. But on such a dark and dense night, when the wind whistled against the ice, he wept in silence, hungry and hunched over in pain. Thinking that would give anything to have those soft hands again, wrapping him in a blanket and protecting from the cold as before. 

The thought made him seasick. And the hatred for Lagertha has sprinkled once again. _That bitch._

Now all he had left was fear, hunger and loneliness. When winter reached harsh levels, his bones hurt so much that for an instant he could imagine how Ivar felt, how horrible it must be to have the body's structures slowly breaking and atrophying. But he soon tried to dispel the comparison, as he had to keep the flame of hate burning. It was necessary to be angry with his crippled brother to avenge Thora. Although, even his girlfriend's charred spirit had abandoned him. 

He hadn't seen her in a long time. And sometimes felt so alone and feverish that cried out blindly in the bitter wind " _Thora! Thora! Where are you? Why don't you come back? Why don't you haunt me again? Oh Thora, come back! Give me a little warmth of your burned body, give me that fire, let me burn a little with you."_ And he said it over and over until fell asleep. And when he woke up, screamed again. But no one answered, not even the wolves.

_"You are gandson of Sigurd, the Dragonslayer, you are Son of Ragnar Lothbrok, you are the Murder of Queen of the Shield, you are a warrior of Odin. Not a flea."_

A distant voice said it to him in the early hours, a voice that came from all directions, it sounded like that of the Seer, but then it was like that of Margrethe and then like that of his brave Aunt Siggy and sometimes it sounded like Bjorn's. 

Meeting with Ivar days later, Hvitserk realized that the flame of hatred that had once consumed him was now as small as a spark. He couldn't help it. He was glad to see a familiar face, and he convinced himself that that was the answer of the gods. The answer to your prayers. 

The gods made him kill the Shieldmaiden and be hated, they wanted him beside Ivar, and his fate would be traced from that. There was no other way. 

Now all that mattered was to return to homeland with triumph, without regrets. 

What was the use of hating your boneless brother now? Even if he tried, wouldn't be able to. Both shared the joy of Lagertha's death, both shared the contempt of everyone in Kattegat, both had no family or home and both had the same thirst for destruction. All they had now was each other. And just.

Months later, on the high walls of Gustave II's castle, Hvitserk watched the thaw in the Estia hills and sighed at the brilliant green that bathed the capital's mountains and warmed his skin.

He felt strong and healthy for the first time in a long time, but still, a little insecure. The ground looked like it would break under his feets at any moment, and soon Thora, Margrethe, the Seer, Freydis, the hanged soldiers and everyone who died under Ivar's reign would stand up and grab Hvitserk by the legs saying, "You swore! You swore!"

But nothing happened, the warm spring breeze continued to blow through the lusco-fusco, the ground remained steady, and Hvitserk sighed, happy to not collapse.

Part 01


	2. Parte 02

_**Part 02** _

_********** _

After Estia conquest, Hvitserk chose not to follow the soldiers in the celebration, turned away from them and took a walk through the fortification. But he ended up getting lost in the ducal castle and stopping in an empty and very peaceful courtyard.

There he stayed, only having for company a glass of dark beer and the sword, which he watched without much interest, entertained only in his own ramblings.

It was then that he felt something very cold touch the back of his neck, but didn't startle. He knew very well who was after. Ivar, silent as always, like a snake.

\- Always distracted, isn't Hvitserk? - spoke the boneless smiling, with the cold blade close to his neck - The day after tomorrow we will sail to the west. I hope you're ready.

The eldest turned and quickly pushed the weapon away with his fingers, observing how beautiful it was, of steel so well forged it looked like a mirror, and whose handle was so well designed that it must have belonged to some king:

\- I knew you would like it. - said the youngest noting his fascination - I asked them to do it for you.

\- Ah, for me. - he sounded very sarcastic.

\- Even if you don't believe me, I missed you, my brother.

Hvitserk looked Ivar from head to toe and took the gift with a corner smile.

Although he doubted his words, it was true. Ivar had missed his brother's silent friendship, always there beside him, sprawled on a chair, eating a piece of meat and laughing at his cruel comments. The Boneless even left a space in the cart for Hvitserk, because knew he loved to climb on it during the battles and then jump, knocking down the enemies. And it was strange that Ivar also missed how Hvitserk called him "crazy" without caring about the likelihood of being shut up by an ax. 

\- Why didn't you kill me, huh? - asked the cripple when the silence stretched for a long time. 

Hvitserk leaned against a small fountain in order to better observe the steel:

\- That was not my destiny, Ivar. I thought it was ... but it wasn't. 

\- And what happened to your arm ring? 

This time there was no answer, the eldest simply escaped the Boneless's look, shy with something in particular and then wielded the new sword, shaking his wrist:

\- Come, let's see if this works. - and threw the old sword into Ivar's hands. 

The Boneless caught it in the air and settled into the fountain, finding a comfortable position to handle it.

Hvitserk was the first to advance, he did it without thinking twice, but the other blocked the blow quickly. Ivar could feel the strength in his brother's arms as the edges vibrated against each other, alerting him of Hvitserk's anger. Yes, Hvitserk was somewhat angry, perhaps because he almost died in battle, or perhaps he was releasing the grudge that still harbored for the cripple. Ivar couldn't say. Then he needed to be more firm in the exercise.

Amidst the constant clash of gladiuses, the eldest deviated from Ivar's attempts, and did so successfully, even giving well-rehearsed blows that surprised the ex-king. However Ivar was persistent, managed to be very precise and focused when he wanted to, even though he was standing in the same place. He dodged all of Hvitserk's advances, and both strands were already whistling around the yard when the blades met, at a frequent pace. 

At that moment, Ivar couldn't help thinking about how much he admired Hvitserk. Hvitserk was a very skilled warrior who fought not just for fighting, but made the battlefield his stage, and perhaps that was indeed his only passion in life. He was not an explorer like Bjorn, a cultivator like Ubbe or a conqueror like Ivar, he was not interested in kingdoms and crowns, all he wanted was to feel the adrenaline of a fervent war and have blood in his hands that was not his. In these moments of confrontation, his eyes shone with anxiety and nothing could stop him. When he was not battling on the beaches, on the streets or in the fields, he constantly found himself lost, hunting for reasons to exist and questioning the gods about everything.

He did not belong to peace. He belonged to the destructive side. 

Ivar almost lost his balance, but at last he found a breach in the impact, and soonscraped the sword in Hvitserk's, holding the body against his and kissing the brother's thin braids.

Hvitserk felt Ivar's smile warm the back of his scruff:

\- Some things never change, right? - said the cripple. 

\- No - replied, pushing the steel down and turned with the blade pointed at Ivar. 

The position was the same as it was years ago, when they trained in a clearing as teenagers with Ubbe and Sigurd. And Ivar felt slightly nostalgic when he realized that Hvitserk's hair still smelled of earth and mint as he remembered. 

Although he was dissatisfied with the tie, Hvitserk did not snort, the sword was really good and he was happy about it. Turned his back to have some more of bitter beer. However, Ivar could not take his eyes off his brother, curiosity still burned the throat:

\- You still haven't talked about how you killed Lagertha. I want to know.

\- I stabbed her ... - his voice came out firm, with no trace of regret, it was doubtful that he was finding a certain grace - Several and several times. Someone had to do that, after all. 

\- I think that's why you ran away from Kattegat.

Hvitserk drank the rest of the beer and sighed:

\- I didn't run. Bjorn banished me. He thought about burning me alive ... and for a moment I thought I would really see Odin's halls. But our dear brother thought it best to expel me from Kattegat. They must believe that I died in the winter.

Ivar soon looked away, clenching his teeth in hatred.

\- Bjorn ... - practically spat out the name - I swear he'll regret this. 

\- I killed his mother... 

\- What does it matter, hmm? - got angry himself, limping to Hvitserk with the strong step of his crutch - When our mother was murdered, Ubbe forgave Lagertha, understood her and even fought for her. Why didn't Bjorn do it too? Wasn't he the one who said that we are all sons of Ragnar and we should be together? ... What about Ubbe ... where was he?

\- Our relationship is not the same. You know that.

\- So he let them burn you. Those bastards ... They'll pay for it. I swear to all the gods.

All that anger didn't make sense to Hvitserk. To realize that Ivar was being protective about him, that he was outraged by what Bjorn tried to do, left Hvitserk confused. He couldn't believe that Boneless had really feelings for someone other than himself, bondering on the surreal. 

\- Why do you care so much? - he requested then - I betrayed you, Ivar... I went to Olaf to dethrone you. You should want me dead.

\- You are my brother, Hvitserk.

\- Sigurd was also. 

\- I didn't love Sigurd.

Hvitserk's countenance then closed for an instant, like a sky that foreshadows a storm. His eyes flashed over his dilated pupils to the point that they looked brown. Ivar knew he was insurrecting something in Hvitserk, but continued:

\- You are the only brother I know. - he admitted with an effort, his eyes almost trembling - It's the only one I care about. The only one I love.

It was like a lightning.

After saying those words, all Ivar could feel was Hvitserk's arm reaching for his throat, pressing him against the cold column of the courtyard. There, where the sun didn't shine, his brother's eyes darkened completely. And Ivar almost choked. 

\- Never say it again! - shouted Hvitserk, the other hand pointing the sword at the cripple's stomach - Don't say you love me! I chose your side Ivar, I fought my brothers for you and all you did was humiliate me and kill Thora ...

There was a long and difficult pause at that moment. He was breathing heavily, listening to the other's wheezing breath. Hvitserk did not intend to tell anything of what really happened in Kattegat, but somehow, the past jolted under his skin and he wanted to make Ivar feel the guilty:

\- Want to know what happened to my arm ring? - he finally said, almost triumphantly - I sold, I sold for meager mushrooms and beer, I was at the bottom of the well, Ivar. And you have no idea how badly I wanted to kill you. The night I murdered Lagertha ... - took a deep breath, twisting his lips - The night I murdered Lagertha, I did it thinking her was you. I saw you in the shape of a snake and stabbed you. When I realized that everything was just an illusion, it was too late.

His voice then lost its strength, and his eyes filled with tears very quickly, but he tried to pick it up, sniffing in a hurry. Hvitserk eould never cry in front of the cripple, never. Ivar, for his part, felt all the heat of Hvitserk in his body, the fury emanating mixed with a lot of hurt.

\- Why? - Hvitserk whisperedl if to himself - Thora was good. Why did you do that? I loved her and you ... killed her.

Feeling that the brother's arms had loosened by deep sadness, Ivar then swallowed and finally managed to answer:

\- Yes, I killed her. And I killed my wife, too, and her son and many other people. .. But I will not ask for forgiveness. How could I, um? There is no forgiveness for what I did. I made mistakes, Hvitserk. I exalted my own name and now the gods are punishing me. Believe me, you are not the only one to be haunted by the spirit of your beloved.

The eldest looked at him puzzled.

Deep down, he felt very good about hearing that. In fact, the gods had taken it upon themselves to judge Ivar for his crimes. Hvitserk had heard stories about Prince Oleg, Ivar and the prophet had a lot in common and it was visible how uncomfortable the Boneless felt in the Russian's presence, as if he were seeing himself. Ivar also swore that Katya was Freydis herself reincarnated, when in fact the similarity between the two was very little.

Trembling, the eldest then removed his arm. But his gaze continued to burn, the sword was still aimed at his brother's belly, any movement and it would be buried in it without making a sound.

\- I know you want it, - urged the youngest - So why don't you kill me? I'm right here, Hvitserk. Do it soon. 

That provocation was nothing more than an appeal. The countenance of the former King of Kattegat had something very soft and sad. Practically begging Hvitserk to pierce the blade once and for all, for some reason Ivar wanted to get out of that world right now.

Hvitserk closed his eyes in silent orison and released his sword. Then he held Ivar's face with zeal, ready to slide the fingers around his neck and strangle him until the Boneless's breath was but an inaudible wind.

But he lacked courage.

He remembered the bad nights in Kattegat, how much he had prayed for the gods to take him to Ivar, he wanted so badly to see those blue eyes again, he asked so much to see those sadistic smiling lips. Begged the gods to give him a chance to kill that bastard. But now, facing those eyes, he saw in it the battles that would come, saw lands that would be conquered on the basis of blood and destruction. He saw in those eyes the fervor of the great wars. It was where he wanted to be, the only place Hvitserk ever know, the battlefields.

The Ragnarsson would like to have more blood on his hands, more souls to take to Valhalla. And murder the Boneless was the same as refusing that.

Hvitserk grunted angrily.

There was something about Ivar that drew the whole world to him. He could be cruel, lunatic and unattainable, but also managed to be gentle, soft and tempting. Hvitserk hated him for that, hated wanting to be with him. And he hated the dominance that Boneless had over everyone.

\- You really don't realize what you do, do you? You break me into a thousand pieces and then rebuild me, as you wish.

Ivar remained motionless, enveloped by Hvitserk's warm hands, and staring at him for fear of what was to come. He wanted to say I'm sorry but his mouth shut with embarrassment. The other held him closer, murmuring:

\- I should ... I should ...

Like rains drops, Hvitserk's words came out difficult. But Ivar felt it when his thumb lightly caressed his cheek. And in that instant, he knew he wouldn't die.

-. .. why you saved my life hum? - Hvitserk asked painfully - Why did you have to be so good to me? Why don't you let me hate you?

Not knowing how to answer, Ivar swallowed the words and closed the last few inches left between them, giving Hvitserk a kiss.

It was an apology, a thank you to the gods for not taking everything from him, after all.

Aslaug, Ragnar, his brothers, Freydis, Kattegat, everything is gone. Ivar had nothing left, and yet, the gods brought him Hvitserk. He was the only thing left in the world that the Boneless destroyed. Ivar did not deserve him and knew it.

\- I am sorry. - he whispered against brother's lips.

Hvitserk did not shy away, but returned the gesture, leaning over Ivar's hot mouth and kissing him back, while squeezing his body closer together. Then he huged him.

That tears that had previously been collected, they were released and slipped as quickly that Hvitserk shuddered, sinking in the face on the Boneless's shoulder.

\- You could have killed me, but you didn't. You stayed by my side and avenged our mother. Please, brother. Fight with me just one more fight, war with me just one more war. Everyone is gone, I only have you.

The answer took a while to come. Hvitserk then moved away, resting his forehead on Ivar's:

\- Sometimes I ask myself if we should really go back to there. If I can still call that city home. I don't have my arm ring, I don't know where my loyalty is anymore. I'm lost, Ivar ... Maybe the gods should have killed me.

\- They wouldn't dare ... - Ivar's fingers tightened on Hvitserk's neck tighter - I would go to Valhalla to brings you back. Forget that bullshit of loyalty. You are a warrior, your loyalty is in your sword, be true to what you believe and the gods will honor you.

The Ragnarsson couldn't hide a smile and his eyes were green again as before. He gave Ivar a light slap in the face before saying:

\- I hate you... you boody cripple. I hate you more than anything.

"D _espite being poisonous, dysfunctional and tragic, it tastes good. "_


End file.
